


Haunted by my past.

by scifitwee



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anorexia, Body Image, Childhood Trauma, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifitwee/pseuds/scifitwee
Summary: “Dude, come on.”Ethan’s mom would look him in the eye right now, eyes squinting with anger and disappointment. He would smile with a cigarette in his mouth, yellow teeth, one rotting in the back. “Put that shit back or I have to like, call someone.”In which, Ethan is a klepto with a lot of issues.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	Haunted by my past.

**Author's Note:**

> pls pay attention to the triggers please, this is more of a vent if anything.
> 
> respect to everyone in this fic.

The cold ice flooring soothed Ethan’s hazy brain, the world spinning around him like he was stuck on a carnival ride. Stomach about to burst through his throat with liquids made of cotton candy and childhood glee. He breathed, slowly, in and out. The loose grey shirt around his shoulders started to feel like a noose around his neck.  
Ethan groaned as he pushed himself up, bony elbows to the palms of his hands, to the balls on his feet. He grabbed the railing of the ice arena, chugging water out of his bottle. Besides the cold, he was sweating. Hard.  
The blades on his shoes skidded against the ice as he moved quickly. Spinning so fast to ignore the feeling in his bones, itching up to his brain. Ethan pulled his arms to his chest, spinning on one foot.  
His phone was flooded with texts from his mom, asking if he was going to come home for Christmas. Ethan has been skating for more than ten hours. He closed his eyes again, trying to ignore his stomach.

When he was fourteen was when it really started to get messy. Thankfully, only his parents found out once when he was a junior. They think he’s fully ‘healed’ and ‘normal’, not scared of him moving out on his own. Shit, you really can’t be when your son has a free ride in college for ice skating (of all things).

“Yeah mom, I’m doing good. I promise, I’ll try to get a plane there for Christmas.”  
Ethan walked down the sidewalk, the plane thing was a lie, by the way. He could easily get a plane, but he didn’t want his mom to see him. He didn’t want to see her gasp, her eyes watering, saying something along the lines of him looking like a ghost. “Alright, love you too.”

He can’t ever go home again.

A door chimed open as Ethan walked into the gas station, his mom would say something along the lines of his teeth looking yellow if he went home. She would force mashed potatoes, bread, ham down his throat, until he looked more human. Ethan walked down the aisle that held random items. Keychains, stickers, wallets, itty bitty stuffed animals with ‘i love you’ written on their full bellies. Ethan needs to stop thinking about stomachs.  
He looked around, and up at any cameras on the ceiling, then grabbed a stuffed animal. pocketing it quickly. 

“Dude, come on.”  
Ethan’s mom would look him in the eye right now, eyes squinting with anger and disappointment. He would smile with a cigarette in his mouth, yellow teeth, one rotting in the back. “Put that shit back or I have to like, call someone.”

The guy in front of Ethan was a little taller than him, more muscle, and long dark hair. He held Ethan’s wrist when he tried to move. “Please?”

Ethan put the stuffed teddy bear back, pulling his wrist away from the man. The guy relaxed, and Ethan realized he worked there. His name tag said Mark.

“Thanks.”  
Mark stared at him, he obviously could’ve bodied the other, or worse, but he didn’t. Mark just stared at Ethan, watching him walk out of the gas station.  
*  
Sometimes, Ethan wished he could be like a normal twenty-something year old man.

He wishes he was a football player, or a basketball guy. Maybe even a golfer. He wishes that he could look in the mirror without a problem. Could eat a piece of food without worrying. Ethan wishes that the blade on his skates weren’t as tempting as they were.

Ice skating is so emasculating to him, not to mention the fact he was constantly obsessed with his body like a fucking girl.  
His mom would slap his head if he ever told her these thoughts. She would grab his wrist roughly and say something along the lines of him manning up, in the same way she sighed when he started ice skating. 

Ethan wishes he was normal. 

*

A girl with thin blonde hair skated past Ethan as he got on the ice, he watched her turn around. Stopping in front of him.

“You’re Ethan right?”  
She asked, smiling with teeth just as yellow as his. Maybe even worse. He nodded slowly, leaning back on the railing without slipping.

“Natalie said you got caught stealing laxatives at Walmart last week,”  
The girl snickered, he didn’t even know who the fuck Natalie was, but he still felt revolted by himself anyways. Ethan watched her skate away. His mom would say something along the lines of him needing to man up and ignore those girls, she would say he was acting like a sissy. A fag.

The girl moved quickly to her group of friends who were gathered around the railings, where the hockey players were tying on their skates with calloused hands and fangs ready to bash each other against walls. He watched the boys slowly take control of the rink, Ethan didn’t move. Just watched as a familiar person waved at him.  
Mark smiled, then went onto skating as Ethan felt like the world was falling on his shoulders.

A bright light. He felt his mom hold him down, felt her holding his hair back. Felt her cold, clammy hands. Silver bangles with silver rings, the sharp smell of cheap perfume run into his face. Ethan would choke down his tears every time she would make a comment about his frame.

Cue the problem he has going, obviously.

“Hey.”  
Mark was probably a super sweet guy, or maybe he was just sweeter than most guys were. His hands were big, rough, holding onto Ethan’s shoulders and shaking him. Mark probably had a lot of girls after him, probably had better things to do than slapping Ethan. “Hey man, you okay? You fainted.”

Ethan sat up, noticing the scary amount of people gathered around him, concerned or snark looks from their faces. Like he thought, Mark was probably a super sweet dude. He was probably the type to pay on the first date, wait to fuck on at least the third- no, maybe even fourth date. Seems like the type to call his mom once in a while to see how she’s doing. 

“Yeah,- yeah, I’m good.”  
He stood, despite the shaking legs he was sporting (which was not good considering he had ice skates on), Ethan hobbled his way around the arena. Trying his hardest not to immediately throw up.

*

“Hi mom.”  
The outfit hugged his torso tightly, making him feel even worse about himself. The acne on his face left dried blood on his fingers, gripping the phone with intensity as he stared in the mirror.

“Yes I know, I’ll carb load before the tournament,- Yes mom, I understand.”  
Sometimes, it felt like all his mom did was call him to harass him about his well being. When this happens, he tragically thinks about his childhood.

How his mom used to treat him. How she used to make fun of him for being so “girly”, she’d even put him in a dress and leave him outside with the door locked whenever he would get in trouble. His mom raised him to be tough, as she would say.

Ethan realizes he wants to jump off his apartment building a lot. As he listened to his mom rant while he rummaged through multiple empty cigarette packs, he stared out the window. Wondering how fast his body would hit the ground,- how hard it would hit him.

“I love you too, Mom.”

*  
“Hey thief.”  
Ethan rolled his eyes at the guy at the counter. His apartment felt too small and his stomach was in pain from hunger, he sighed as he put a twenty dollar bill down. “Marlboro lights, one hundreds. Please.”

“Wow. You actually pay for stuff? Crazy.”  
Ethan watched Mark’s back move as he turned around to grab the gold and white pack of cigarettes. The muscles moved like dancers, stretching and moving around. Mark looked back at him, taking the money, and giving the change back. Ethan unzipped his backpack, dropping the extra change in his bag.

“So, uh, you’re an ice skater?”  
Mark asked awkwardly. His uniform that he had on for work looked stupid on him, which Ethan kept himself from laughing over. “I play hockey.”

Ethan nodded at him, looking at the vertical scars on Mark’s arm and furrowing his eyebrows. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack and smiled. “I saw. Bye.”

Mark ran out after Ethan, jogging with him to keep up.

“Hey wait, would you uh,..”  
The man huffed out on more breath, while the other lit his own cigarette. “Can I take you out one day?”

Ethan saw white.

*

A tube in his nose felt foreign. Taped to the side of his face, right where a bunch of scars from acne laid. Ethan looked over to see Mark sleeping in a hospital chair next to him. Squinting, he realized what happened. 

Shit.

*

Mark was an observer. That’s something Ethan came to notice.

“You’re anorexic.”  
Ethan knows this, he’s known this for awhile. As Mark drank coffee in front of him, Ethan felt warmth come around him. His body is not used to the amount of calories coming into his body from the tube.

“Shut the fuck up.”  
He feels like he needs to defend, he never stops defending himself. 

*

“Go to the hospital, please.”  
Mark told him, a worried look on his face as he drove Ethan back to his apartment.

“Okay.”


End file.
